The Russian women we have hitherto seen, though they cannot be called pretty, have generally very pleasant faces. Their voices are sweet and low, and the gentleness of their manner is very prepossessing. It is impossible, however, not to feel that so much timidity probably originates in the harsh treatment they experience in their homes, for the men, though humble and cringing when addressing their superiors, are coarse and boorish to their inferiors. These observations, of course, only refer to the lower classes. Amongst the higher ranks, Russians of both sexes are quite remarkable for their charm of manner and peculiar talents for society. The extraordinary kindness we received from every family whose acquaintance we made during our stay in the Crimea, quite endeared these kind people to us, and personal experience enables us to say that Russian friendship does not limit itself to charming manners alone. During our stay in Sevastopol, we became well acquainted with several of the ladies who had remained in the town during the siege. With the exception of one, all were wives or daughters of officers in command, and who, with noble devotion, had refused to leave their relations in the hour of danger. With unwearied zeal they laboured in the hospitals, for, notwithstanding every effort, the amount of attendance was lamentably deficient, and it was only possible to provide for the more pressing need of the sufferers. All unite in saying that the courage and fortitude of these ladies were beyond praise. Many of them were quite young girls, but, regardless of personal danger, they not only visited the hospitals, but wherever illness or suffering required their presence these true Sisters of Mercy were to be found. Death was ever before them, for who could tell where or when would come the fatal shot? Day and night shells were exploding in the devoted town. No spot was safe. When sleeping in their homes, or praying in their churches, the fiery shot might come crashing through the walls, dealing death and destruction around. The narrow escapes related to us might fill a volume. One lady had barely left the side of a wounded man, when a shot came through the roof, instantly terminating the sufferings of the patient, and injuring another in a neighbouring bed. One charming young girl, Mademoiselle Androvna R----, daughter of a general commanding a division, had been in Sevastopol from the beginning of the siege until the end. She was an only daughter, but her father and two brothers were soldiers, and she remained with them to be, as they said, "their guardian angel." Although so many years have now elapsed, Androvna was strongly moved as she spoke of the anguish of that terrible time. Parting almost daily, in ignorance as to whether they should ever meet again, when again they met the little family felt as if it were impossible they could all be much longer spared. Sometimes a brother would have to proceed